


The Real Me

by MsChievous



Series: Prompto Week 2017 [3]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Abuse, Angst, Ardyn is an asshole, Episode Prompto Spoilers, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, I'm so mean to him, Poor Prompto, Psychological Trauma, hand mutilation, my poor son
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-21
Updated: 2017-10-21
Packaged: 2019-01-20 23:30:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12444306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MsChievous/pseuds/MsChievous
Summary: Day 3 of Prompto Week: Favorite Quote - “So I told myself I couldn't die, not until I could see you and hear you tell me I'm not a fake - that I'm the real me."





	The Real Me

**Author's Note:**

> Warning for hand mutilation: Once you reach "...we cannot have some fun. _Together_.", skip directly to "Prompto was pretty sure he was..." and know that Ardyn is an asshole who needs to be kicked in the dick.

When Prompto came to, he was suspended by his wrists in some kind of manic torture device-like thing. He tugged at his bonds, but they held fast. He looked around frantically, trying to see if there was anything nearby, but the cell was empty, save a metal shelf pushed against the opposite wall. 

“Hello?” He called, throat dry and crackly.

“Why hello,” A chillingly familiar voice responded, smooth and lilting. “I must say, seeing such a familiar face at Galdin was… disarming, to say the least,” Ardyn stepped into view, tracing a possessive hand down Prompto’s arm. “You don’t look  _ exactly _ like your father dear, but it is quite uncanny, nevertheless.”

Unease coiled in Prompto’s gut. “I’m nothing like my father,” He spat.

Ardyn sighed, “I suppose you’re right. He was always such a  _ downer _ . I much prefer the son,” He grinned. “Though, I wonder, how well do your friends know you?”

“What do you mean?” Prompto asked carefully. Was… was Ardyn going to tell them about Prompto’s Niff origins? No,  _ he _ needed to do that, to be the person who broke the news. He couldn’t have Ardyn influencing them, telling them lies. 

“I mean, you  _ are  _ a clone. While people who work with them a lot, like myself or your dearly departed father, can tell them apart, it’s hard for the newer scientists to distinguish one clone from the other. I wonder if your friends would be able to tell you from a clone.”

Blood turned to ice in Prompto’s veins. That was somehow  _ worse _ . 

“I’ll tell you what. I have about a dozen extra clones. I’ll put each one of you in the same clothes, and the same restraints, with the same memories, and the prince will have to tell you apart. Does that sound like a fun game?”

“No!” Prompto yelled, “Please don’t!” Tears burned in the corners of his eyes, and he shook them away angrily. 

Ardyn feigned surprise. “Oh? And why not? Are you afraid your friends will fail the test? That they will choose the wrong one and spend their days living with a ticking time bomb that may or may not be programmed to kill them when they least suspect it? Or that by choosing the wrong one, they will inadvertently trap you here with me?”

In all honesty, it was neither. He was more worried about how Noctis would feel if or when the trick was discovered. He would realize what he had done and feel terrible for it, and Prompto didn’t want Noctis to feel terrible because of him. But he wouldn’t tell Ardyn that.

“INoctis’ll recognize me. I’m  _ sure _ of it,” He hissed.

With raised eyebrows, Ardyn whistled. “You are certainly putting a good deal of trust in the young king, aren’t you?” He asked.

Prompto stared back at the Chancellor. “He deserves it. He’s a good guy.”

Ardyn just fixed him with an odd expression, lips curling in a slight grin. “We’ll see. For your sake, I hope you’re right.”

 

* * *

 

Prompto wasn’t quite sure how much time had passed. He had fallen asleep three times, but he didn’t think it had quite been three days. Ardyn hadn’t supplied any food or water, and, while Prompto was certainly  _ thirsty _ , it wasn’t  _ I’m going to die _ levels of thirst like he would expect after three whole days.

He mostly spent his time imagining what he’d say to Noctis and the others when they rescued him.  _ ‘You come here often?’  _ or maybe a more laidback,  _ ‘It’s about  _ time _ you got here, let me show you around.” _ , or even just a simple,  _ ‘Hey guys, how’re you doing?” _

When that got boring, he started counting the tiles on the floor. They were large tiles, so there were only about fifteen or twenty in his cell, but he could strain his neck and count the ones outside it as well. He was up to seventy-three when the perspective made it too hard to see and he gave up.

He was about to start estimating the size of the tiles to figure out the size of his cell and the hallway beyond, but a scraping metal noise stopped him short. He glanced up, and there was Noctis, on the other side of the cell doors. 

His heart leaped as Noctis opened the doors and stepped through. “Noct! It’s really you, thank the gods! I-”

Prompto paused as Noctis stepped closer, staring at his face intently. Then, Noctis’ hand snaked out, catching Prompto’s chin in a vise-like grip. The blond bit back a yelp as Noctis twisted his head this way and that.

“N-Noct, it’s me, buddy,” Prompto tried to force out a laugh that fell flat.

Noctis just sighed, breaking eye contact and pulling out his phone. As he pressed a button on his phone, he stepped away from Prompto, shutting the door behind him. “Yeah, sorry guys, this one was a fake too,” Noctis said, “I’m sure we’ll find him, though. We just gotta keep-”

“ _ NOCT _ !” Prompto screamed, pulling desperately against his bonds, “Noct,  _ please _ ! It’s  _ me! _ I-  _ I’m the real one!” _

Noctis glanced back, raising his eyebrows. “Yeah, I’m certain about this one,” Noctis said, turning back to walk down the hallway, “He’s just another one of those clones the Chancellor let loose. It’s aggravating.”

_No_ … Prompto thought, _No, this can’t be happening._ _I’m not a fake_ …

But Noctis just kept walking away until he turned the corner and disappeared.

Prompto just stared down the hallway disbelievingly. Noctis… Noctis hadn’t recognized him? Were all the clones just that good? Was he just one of thousands, unidentifiable to most? The thought rattled around in his brain and he tried to push it aside, but he couldn’t. His best friend just looked him in the face and told him he wasn’t real.

He bit back the tears, bowing his head. It would be pointless to cry, he needed to make a plan. If Noctis and the others weren’t going to save him, he would have to save himself.

“Oh, dear,  _ that _ didn’t quite go as expected,” Ardyn had somehow managed to get inside Prompto’s cell without him noticing. “A shame, too, you had such high hopes for your dear little friend, didn’t you?”

Prompto said nothing, staring levelly back at the Chancellor. 

“Yes, I suppose you’re quite disappointed. Nevertheless,” Ardyn said, “that doesn’t mean we cannot have some fun.  _ Together _ .”

 

* * *

 

Unsurprisingly, Ardyn’s idea of “fun” wasn’t actually quite that fun from Prompto’s perspective. 

“Honestly, I was rather expecting your dear friend to recognize you, but I suppose if he can barely stand to look at you most days, it makes sense that he wouldn’t be able to tell the difference now.” Ardyn’s voice was gentle as he broke each one of Prompto’s fingers individually.

Prompto screamed against the pain, trying to tear out of Ardyn’s grip, but his wrists were still bound to the Y-frame. 

“You see?” Ardyn grinned, “Isn’t this fun?” He then pressed each finger back into alignment before pouring a potion over the wounds.

Immediately, the pain disappeared. Prompto was left panting, trying to forget the fiery pain. But before he could, Ardyn brings out a dagger. “Ooh,” He crooned, “Imagine the  _ fun _ we can have with  _ this _ .”

 

* * *

 

Prompto was pretty sure he was going to die in this dank cell, with no one for company save the occasional MT soldier and, of course, Ardyn. 

He could honestly deal without the latter.

Ardyn still hadn’t brought food, but he had been “generous” enough to bestow Prompto with a bottle of water. It honestly didn’t do much, but he felt more awake, at least. He could think more clearly. Which meant he could plan his escape. 

If he could get out of this cell, he could find the other clones and free  _ them _ . That would hopefully confuse Ardyn long enough to find a way out. With their barcodes, the doors wouldn’t be a problem, and if each clone scattered in a different direction, Ardyn couldn’t hope to catch every one of them. At least  _ one _ of them would make it out. And if they all shared memories, then at least the one that escaped would hopefully be able to live out the rest of Prompto’s life.

It certainly wasn’t the ideal situation, but… but it was the best idea he had.

Then, he had a sudden thought that chilled him to his core. If memories could be implanted as easily as Ardyn had implied, who was to say  _ he _ was real?  _ He  _ could be the clone, and the  _ real _ Prompto could be somewhere else in the facility. He might have even been rescued by now.

He tried not to cry, but a surge of helplessness washed over him, and he couldn’t hold it back. He felt like he was going to drown in it all. He didn’t know if he was real or not, he didn’t know if someone was going to come for him, he didn’t even know if he had stepped outside of this facility in his entire life. Everything could have just been implanted in his head. 

Slowly, his tears slowed to muffled sniffing. He didn’t  _ want _ to be a clone. He never asked for it. But he still cared about Noctis and the others, even if those memories were fake. And if the way to do that was to find the real Prompto and help free him, well… he was willing to do that.

For his friends.

 

* * *

 

He wasn’t quite conscious when the door to his cell opened again. When he didn’t hear the mechanical clanking of robot feet, he expected Ardyn’s smarmy voice at any moment, taunting him about his friends leaving him behind, about the kinds of “fun” they were going to have together.

Instead, he heard a painfully familiar voice. 

“Oh  _ shit _ ,” Noctis breathed. 

Even though it hurt like hell, Prompto tipped his head up, catching a glimpse of scruffy black hair.  And behind that, a mass of muscles, and a familiar sports coat. He let his head hang back down. Noctis and the others were  _ here _ ? They came to him?

He held his breath in anticipation, then let it out in a grunt as the restraints released and he tumbled to the ground. Gentle hands helped him sit back, keeping him as upright as possible. 

“‘S it really you, Noct?” He mumbled, doing his best to concentrate on Noctis’ face, though his slowly greying made that rather difficult. “That mean ‘m the real one?” He asked blearily.

The hands keeping him upright stiffened, and he heard a sharp intake of breath from beside him. 

“What do you mean, ‘I’m the real one?’” Ignis asked.

Prompto tried to explain, but his mouth stopped working, and the grey completely overtook his vision, slowly shifting to black.

 

* * *

 

When he woke up again, he was lying in a bed with a thin blanket pulled over his chest. Warmth emanated from someone behind him, and warm arms wrapped loosely around his waist. He turned slightly and met Noctis’ gaze.

“How are you feeling?” Noctis asked, pushing himself up onto one arm.

Prompto shrugged, turning to do the same when he realized someone was holding his hand. He whipped his head to the side and tore his hand away in a blind panic.

“My apologies,” Ignis said from the chair where he was seated, “I didn’t mean to cause you stress.”

Had Ignis been holding his hand? Prompto furrowed his brow. “I-No, it’s okay, I just…” Prompto trailed off, not really wanting to go into specifics.

“No need to go on,” Ignis assured, “But does anything hurt?”

Prompto shook his head, then turned back to look at Noctis. “I’m fine. Thank you.”

They lapsed into silence, and Prompto started sinking back against the pillow. He knew it wasn’t  _ supposed _ to be the most comfortable thing he had slept on in his life, but it sure felt like it. He closed his eyes and started to relax.

“What’d you mean by ‘You’re the real one’?” Gladio asked.

Prompto jolted and glanced to the side. He hadn’t noticed Gladio standing in front of the mechanical door before now. “I- He…” Prompto’s breath hitched in his throat. “I’m not sure I’m the real one,” He admitted, “A-are you?”

Noctis brushed a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Prom, what are you talking about?”

“Y-you came a while ago and thought I was a fake. And… and I think you might be right. Ardyn said he could implant memories, I might just be one of the clones, and you’d never know.”

“ _ What?! _ ” Gladio growled.

Prompto flinched away from the outburst. “I-I’m sorry,” He whispered, “I-”

“ _ Fuck _ , Prompto, you’re not a fucking  _ clone _ . How the hell did Ardyn convince you that you were?” Noctis hissed.

“H-he showed me. I  _ am _ a clone, didn’t you see the others?” Panic was starting to course through his veins. This didn’t make sense, didn’t they  _ know _ that he was a clone? That was why Noctis had walked away at first, wasn’t it? But if he didn’t realize that there were more clones like him scattered around the Keep, then he might be the wrong one after all…

“Prompto, Prompto breathe,” Noctis said worriedly, rubbing circles into Prompto’s back, “It’s okay, just  _ breathe _ .”

It took a few moments for Prompto to realize that he was practically hyperventilating, choking on his tears. 

When Prompto had finally calmed down enough to get words out, he hiccupped, “You didn’t see the others?”

“Prompto, there were no ‘others’,” Ignis said, “You are not a clone.”

“I  _ am _ !” He shouted, “I’m a fucking clone! You said it yourself, Noctis!”

Noctis’s eyes widened. “I-uh, what? Wh-when did I say that?”

Prompto tried to stutter out a response, but he realized he didn’t know how long it had been since Noctis had walked away. “I-I don’t….I don’t know. A couple days ago? I…don’t remember how long it’s been,” He said. 

“Prompto, I only got here a couple  _ hours _ ago. I...I don’t know how you saw me, unless…” Noctis paused for a moment, brow furrowing. “Gladio did you say Ardyn disguised himself to look like me? To kill Ravus?”

“Yeah. You think he did that with Prompto?” Gladio asked.

Noctis nodded, “Yeah, Prompto, that wasn’t me you saw before, it was Ardyn. He’s playing a trick on you.”

Prompto stared at Noctis disbelievingly. “...really?”

Ignis knelt next to the bed, head angled to where he assumed Prompto’s head was. “Prompto, I promise you, we haven’t been here more than a few hours. We have seen no one who looks like you, and we have been through most of the facility. On top of that, Gladio has  _ seen _ Ardyn transform into Noctis, so it’s likely, nay,  _ certain _ , that Ardyn was the one who did that to you.”

Prompto looked at his own hands disbelievingly. He  _ wanted _ to believe them. He was  _ so sure _ he was the real one. Could he… could he actually  _ be _ the real one?

Well, the others believed it, and the other clones were back in the facility, so maybe… maybe he  _ was _ real. 

That would be nice.


End file.
